


Love Drunk

by heylovre



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Angst, Background Relationships, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Roommates, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Student Jeon Wonwoo, Student Kim Mingyu, and they were roommates!, he's a rehab sciences/physical therapy student, its p meanie centric but u catch bits of the other ships huehuehue, oh my god they were /roommates/, specifically nursing student wonu
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-17
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-08-24 18:52:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16645844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heylovre/pseuds/heylovre
Summary: Jeon Wonwoo is a third year university student, studying for his BSN and possibly on the brink of smashing his head in as he falls further into his crush for his flatmate, Kim Mingyu, a rehabilitation sciences student in a frat, who can't seem to keep his drunk mouth shut.Updates ~every 5 days or so>ON HIATUS BECAUSE OF SCHOOL





	1. 6 Beers and a Few Shots

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr.](http://heylovre.tumblr.com/)  
> [pinterest.](https://www.pinterest.ph/heylovre/)  
> [twitter.](http://twitter.com/heylovre)  
> a quick thank you to my loveliest friend for reading through this and for letting me spam her on discord with ideas and tidbits and taking the time to do all that with me <33
> 
> quick rundown of links:  
> i post extras on my tumblr, like graphics that correlate with the chapters, etc.  
> my pinterest shows my inspo board for the fic  
> my twitter is just me posting commentary and crying over the fic kek  
> pls feel free to leave comments, they're very welcomed <33

_Night_ of _August 24_

Rush Party

Delta House

 

Wonwoo is almost positive Mingyu is only capable of revealing things after drinking more than 6 beers and a few shots thrown in for good measure. That’s the rule. Mingyu cannot, will not, out right _refuses_ , it almost seems, to say things like this to him sober. Or if he does, Wonwoo feels like he’s being mocked. He thinks Mingyu finds him annoying to a degree, which wouldn’t be misreading the situation, but Wonwoo’s walls are up and his words are acrid on his tongue when he speaks to the taller, sarcasm oozing though his lips with dark eyes reflecting ire which he finds glinting back at him in a teasing manner from the soft brown irises of the other. He digs his words into pliable skin, needles in a pin cushion, gauging the reaction, measuring against him to wonder what he should say next. But that’s when Mingyu’s sober.

 

It’s different when he’s drunk.

 

Wonwoo’s talking with Soonyoung amongst a thinning crowd of partiers in the frat house’s backyard when he feels arms come around his shoulders, weight easing against his back and a broad chest rests against him. Hot alcohol soaked breath washes against the cool of his skin. He easily flushes pink, ears hot and cheeks burning and he thinks his heart is going to break his ribcage. He doesn’t move and Soonyoung just stares between the two of them, used to this by now before walking away. Mingyu just gets heavier. Wonwoo sighs and leans back to counterbalance the weight, hands rising to press palms and wrap fingers against warm skin tacky with perspiration, almost like he’s stabilizing himself instead of holding up the other, “I think you’re going to crush me.”

 

“Mm, you’re strong, I know you’ve got me.”

 

The slighter of the two can’t help the bordering sardonic laugh that rises from his throat, “I’m definitely more frail than you’d believe, Mingyu.”

 

He just feels a face bury into his hair and his heart trips over itself as if the other’s close presence repels the organ in his chest. A breath leaks from between his lips and he has half the mind to lead them to the unoccupied patio furniture on the back porch of the frat house, commenting to the younger that he feels like he’s dragging several large sacks of potatoes along with him, _are your legs not working?_ He feels the ‘ _no_ ’ of Mingyu’s reply when the head thats becoming buried into his neck moves back and forth. The soft bubbling laugh that he allows himself is more genuine this time and Wonwoo manages to pull the taller to the couch, working his fingers under the arms caging them together to deposit him down, watching as he bounces against the cushions with a soft groan. He sinks next to the brunette, feigning an exhausted sigh as he looks to him, lips parting to make a snide remark, kill the feeling growing in his chest with those irate words he flings at the other. But he’s unable, finding himself, or his legs rather, made instead into a pillow and suddenly his chest is a cup that’s too full of the feeling he wanted to rid himself of and there’s nowhere for anything to spill.

 

Wonwoo doesn’t dare look down at Mingyu immediately, fearing the smile he knows is on the other’s lips, the dim lights that would find ways to catch in his crinkled eyes. He lets himself have a moment, staring up at the sky, stars drowned out by the glare of the city, but leaving something vast and unknowing to be admired. He allows his hands to settle first on the other, fingers touching down on soft fabric that clings just slightly in the dip of the wearer’s sternum, palm smoothing over soft ripples in the cloth, feeling the gentle downbeats of his heart. It was steady and contrasted the odd, unhealthy staccato in his own chest. He lets them stay like that, keeping his eyes turned to heaven and ignoring the warmth of callous fingers dancing over his wrist, a delicate and curious touch.

 

“Wonu?”

 

He doesn’t look down.

 

“Mhm?”

 

“You look beautiful in the night.”

 

There’s a closed off choke in his throat, hand flexing into Mingyu’s shirt. An attempt is made to regain a semblance of composure.

 

“…Oh? Just at night?”

 

The silence that follows stretches on and allows false hope to catch hold of his thoughts, he lets himself look down. Bad idea. Now he’s caught. Mingyu continues looking up at him, eyes searching and wearing the smile Wonwoo knew was there. 

 

“No. You look beautiful in the day too, but the night suits you better.”

 

“You sound drunk.”

 

Mingyu laughs and cants his head, hair falling wayward across his forehead with his grin wide as he settles and a small smile plays at the corner of Wonwoo’s lip. He releases his hand from the gentle grip made by calloused hands and carefully flicks the soft, bronze locks away, combing them back into placewith deft fingers through the soft waves and a pleased noise hums from Mingyu’s chest.

 

“I am _very_ drunk.”

 

Wonwoo laughs and continues pushing his fingers into Mingyu’s hair.

 

“You should sleep.”

 

“Okay.”

 

_Morning of August 25_

Home

Diamond Bar

 

The alarm echoing in a hollow manner through the room awakens a disgruntled Wonwoo to the dark, and he stares grudgingly at the light flooding from the small ringing device by his head, adjusting before sliding his thumb across the screen and discarding it onto the floor, arm cascading over the edge of the mattress. He doesn’t even flinch as the device collides with the wood, knowing already that the corner made first contact. It’s the weekend. Wonwoo’s tired from his drive. He doesn’t give a shit about what happens right now as long as he can sleep again. His limb continues to hang freely over the bed for barely a few moments more before it retracts back under the duvet, tucked under his body in a way that should be uncomfortable, but the pressure is nice in a way. A deep breath slips from his lips and his eyes slide closed again, falling quickly back into his slumber.

 

He doesn’t wake for another 4 hours. His phone reads 9:24 AM when he manages to extend half of himself from bed to avoid actually getting up and he blesses to himself that his mother was kind enough to let him rest for longer than he usually ever did on the weekends he spent at home. His lower half is still tucked under the comforter as he supports himself with his left hand, right hand maneuvering to unplug his phone with his pinky and ring finger as his other digits grip his phone. The endeavor is successful, though proves tiring as he tracks himself back into his bed and somehow uses enough force to push himself back to the mattress, wriggling back into the safety of his blankets and he spends the next fifteen minutes calming his slightly hard breathing from the minimal exertion and scrolling though stray notifications from the night. A series of thank you texts from his roommates, stray tags in instagram posts from the party, quickly cleared away with a few swipes.

 

Wonwoo drops his phone to his chest and idly remembers how he discarded it earlier. There weren’t any cracks in it, he realizes, and he makes a pleased noise before pushing himself upright, aforementioned device sliding off his torso and bouncing onto the mattress as he slides off the bed. Toes test the cool of his floor, curling upward at the first chilling shock on his skin, but he settles down quickly and places his feet on the ground again, rising and padding quickly to where striped, worn down slippers wait by his door. Walking through the slightly dimmed hall, he hears the soft clatter of who he presumes to be his mother downstairs.

 

“ ‘Ma!”

 

No answer. He tries again, slightly louder.

 

“ ‘Ma!”

 

The noises pause for a minute, but resume shortly after and Wonwoo sighs, continuing his slow march toward the top landing of the stairs where he contemplates leaning down the bannister and calling for her again, but he figures against it. He meanders, making his way down the flight with eyes following the carefully arranged pictures lining the wall bordering the stairs, its mostly of his mom, his younger brother and himself. His father makes the occasional appearance in younger photos of the two boys, but his presence dwindles as the pair get older through the printed memories, the most recent appearance of him only showing up in Wonwoo’s high-school graduation photos, where everyone is grinning, and Wonwoo can’t help but smile himself looking at it.

 

He’s stopped on the middle landing to view it all, it’d been awhile since he looked at the memories his mother had taken the time to make part of their home. A small span of time passes as he observes it, head cocked slightly, when a soft almost crash, mostly clatter, in the kitchen brings him back and he remembers what he was doing. He half jogs down the remaining steps and turns into the kitchen, his presence is only announced when he speaks up as he approaches,

 

“Eomma.”

 

The sound of a few utensils dropping again indicates she knows he’s there as the upper half of her head appears over the center island, eyebrows furrowed and alluding to a slightly annoyed expression that he can imagine set into the lines of her pursed mouth. Wonwoo offers an apologetic smile and makes his way to her, bending and helping her pick up the last of the spilled dinner-ware and placing it into the appropriate drawer. They stand and she glares up to him with no fire in her eyes.

 

“Stop scaring me.”

 

“I called down to you twice."

 

“I have the vent going, I won’t hear you.”

 

Wonwoo realizes that the vent _is_ running above the stove, registering the just above comfortable hum of air being suctioned away, keeping the smell of food from saturating the house. He smiles sheepishly, shrugging with an apology in his posture and expression. His mom sighs and he smiles, leaning down to kiss her cheek and moving to dig into the fridge, grabbing food for breakfast while asking if he needs to run errands for her. Her tone rises above the fan,

 

“Your brother mentioned needing to get the last of his school supplies, could you do that with him?”

 

He looks to Bohyuk, his crop of black hair just visible above the couch back, who hasn’t moved from his seat or looked away from the television, still in vacation mode as an ugly cartoon show with crude humor that pretends to be clever flashes on screen. He takes a bite of his still cold food straight from the container, ignoring the chill it sends through his spine, and dares to bother his sibling,

 

“Bo.”

 

“Mm?”

 

“When do you wanna grab your school stuff?”

 

“After the show.”

 

“Kay.”

 

The elder finds out two hours later its a marathon. He just makes Bohyuk write a list during a commercial and does the run on his own.

 

_Afternoon of August 25_

Target

Diamond Bar

 

The shopping cart has a funky wheel and Wonwoo’s about to run the thing into a wall out of frustration of trying to keep it on a straight path. He sighs and bears his weight down on the handle as if that somehow changes the way the wheel moves (it doesn’t) and pulls out his phone, meandering through aisles of the store, staring at mugs, dishware, wondering if he should buy anything. He flicks through his contacts and presses down on the number of Seokmin, holding the phone to his ear as it chimes. The line clicks on the other end.

 

“Are you psychic?”

 

Wonwoo snorts and earns an odd look from a woman joining him in the aisle, who he thinks twice as to not level with a glare.

 

“No, why?”

 

“I was just about to call. I need hangover cures.”

 

“Yeah, here’s one; stop drinking.”

 

“Don’t be smart.”

 

“Don’t be dumb.”

 

“Do you have any hangover advice or not?”

 

There’s a scuffle in the background, a flat tone complaining of someone’s smell and then an indignant shriek from the same voice. Wonwoo’s imagination wanders as to what could be happening, then he hears someone yelling to the phone, a lower, slightly lisped voice, ’ _Jeon Wonwoo, I will doggy ear all the pages of your books and break their spines_ ** _and then yours_** _if you don’t tell him how to calm my head the fuck down._ ’Seokmin says nothing.

 

“Put the ice pack I keep in the freezer on his head and have him drink lots of water. And then take ibuprofen after he’s eaten.”

 

“If that doesn’t work?”

 

“Tell him whatever empty threats he has for me are pointless and I fear nothing.”

 

“You’re horrifying.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

A brief span of silence before Seokmin springs back, the sound of his shuffling about coming through the phone speaker.

 

“Oh, why did you call in the first place?”

 

“I’m grocery shopping, do I need to pick up anything for the apartment?”

 

“Welch fruit snacks and Caprisun.”

 

“People are gonna think I’m shopping for a large group of three year olds.”

 

“You are.”

 

_Night of August 25_

In ’n’ Out

Diamond Bar

 

Wonwoo immediately regrets biting into the caramel empanada, tongue scalded by the hot filling that he’s attempting not to spit out. He tilts his head back slightly and opens his mouth, allowing air to filter in and cool the filling till its consumable. It still feels like its burning when it drops to his stomach. Across the booth from him, Joshua laughs, fries propped delicately in his fingers as he drops them into his mouth.

 

“We’re at one of the most famous burger chains in the United States and you _still_ manage to drag your gross Taco Bell here. Isn’t it frowned upon to bring fast food from outside into other fast food places? Like you’re interrupting their aura??”

 

Wonwoo’s expression is flat as he grabs his shake and takes a long sip of the thick frost.

 

“I ordered a meal and paid, if they wanna get mad at me for my empanada, they’re stupid.”

 

“You’re stupid for enjoying Taco Bell in the temple of fast food gods.”

 

“You’re definitely overselling this place.”

 

“It’s true.”

 

Joshua’s got a grin on his face and Wonwoo feels his own smile stretching on his lips, nose scrunching as he laughs and shakes his head. His fingers dig into the small mountain if fries they’ve made in their burger tray, having dumped both their shares into the container promptly after getting their meals and he’s mid chew when he hears Joshua asking him a question, and he looks up, finding himself facing a phone, and his smile falls into a grimace.

 

“When will you be visiting me again Wonu?”

 

The younger of the two rolls his eyes and his new smile is more sarcastic as his tone rocks itself into a mocking cadence, a little show on Joshua’s instagram story.

 

“I’m never coming back, Shua.”

 

“Ah! You’re going to break my heart!”

 

“You get to rot here while I whisk away Junhui and Cheol for the rest of eternity. Only Chan will spend time with you because he works here and can’t escape when you come.”

 

Joshua laughs and pans over to the youngest who’s not paying attention as he shouts out an order for pick up. Chan offers a sweet grin as the customer comes, but it’s quick to fall when they move out of the way and reveal Joshua pointing his phone towards him. The screen displays an irritable, but hardly intimidating Chan glaring him down in a paper hat with his middle finger in full view before he makes his escape into the kitchen to retrieve other orders and Wonwoo can’t help the laughter that bubbles in his throat.

 

The two sit in comfortable silence as Joshua places his phone down, eating their small mountain of fries and Wonwoo studies the workers milling behind the counter, spotting Chan running about to collect a waiting customer’s order. The boy across from him clears his throat and he turns, raising a brow, an unspoken ‘ _yes?_ ’

 

“How’s your roommate?”

 

“Which one?”

 

“The tall, young, hot one.”

 

“That’s pretty much all of them.”

 

“The tallest and hottest one.”

 

“I’m going to need names.”

 

“I can’t remember his name, Wonu!”

 

Wonwoo smirks,satisfied. Joshua glares. Wonwoo eats another fry.

 

“Spill it, Jeon. What’s happening?”

 

“Nothing!”

 

“Sure.”

 

“Will you drop it?”

 

His tone flexes minutely with a degree of discomfort that his expression doesn’t give way to, it’s hard to read and if the conversation was with anyone else but Joshua, it would’ve been dropped. But the conversation was with Joshua and his eyes go wide.

 

“Oh, something _did_ happen?”

 

“Shua- –– !”

 

“Tell me.”

 

There’s a stretch of silence as Wonwoo stares at a ketchup packet, his ears slowly flushing scarlet.

 

“He told me I looked good.” _Beautiful._ “He was drunk, I wouldn’t chalk it up to anything.”

 

Joshua scoffs and shakes his head, half smiling with disbelief and coifed pink hair shaking with the movement.

 

“You don’t even believe for a second that he could even be a little bit into you? How many times has he drunkenly confessed or complimented you?”

 

“He does it to ever- –”

 

“No he doesn’t.”

 

Wonwoo sits quietly, deigning to give a glance toward the other, who watches him furrowed brows and a smile that intermingles sympathy and concern. They decide in their silence not to continue the conversation.

 

“How’s your mom?”

 

“She misses you. You should visit sometime.”

 


	2. The Gordian Knot in a Cherry Stem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mingyu can tie cherry stems into knots with his tongue and Wonwoo's feelings into knots with his actions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr.](http://heylovre.tumblr.com/)  
> [pinterest.](https://www.pinterest.ph/heylovre/)  
> [twitter.](http://twitter.com/heylovre)  
> gfx for this chapter: [wonu's social media](http://heylovre.tumblr.com/post/180431567651/meanie-college-au-%C2%BD-wonwoos-social-media) , [ mingyu's social media](http://heylovre.tumblr.com/post/180438795026/meanie-college-au-22-mingyus-social-media)
> 
> wonu formally debuted w the perm but i think he actually had it styled like this during the last day of ideal cut's encore in seoul, either way i'm DEAD and thats the inspo for his curly hair this chapter thxxx <333
> 
> thank u to my Loveliest Friend who once again read thru the chapter for me, and let me spam her w more shit on discord, im sure this whole thing would be messier w/o her

_Evening of August 26_

Shell Gas Station

Glendale

 

The door of the hand-me-down Civic sits propped open as Wonwoo waits for his tank to fill, eyes to his phone and occasionally flickering to the climbing numbers on the terminal he’s parked himself at. He’s crying a bit for his wallet. He opens his instagram and starts flickering through stories. Friends out at parties, food pics, dramatic zooming videos of computer screens filled with words and captions somewhere along the lines of, “THIS SCHOOL IS A FUCKING NIGHTMARE!!!!!” Relatable. He keeps clicking through, barely paying mind, only pausing to look at Joshua’s story, waiting for Chan to appear, and snickering to himself when he does. He skips past. Jihoon’s story flickers by and he almost doesn’t catch it, but when he sees the “Sound On” caption at the bottom, he starts it back and elevates the volume. _Careless Whisper_ crackles through the small speakers on his phone and immediately he begins recoiling at the sight: Mingyu is groping Soonyoung while in the kitchen to the beat of the song and Wonwoo doesn’t know whether to laugh or feel bad when he sees the expression of horror his roommate wears. He swipes his thumb up on the story and replies:

 

lol soonyoungs face <

same <

 

He flips through the rest of the stories, killing the brief time until he hears the telling _click_ of the gas pump releasing. Wonwoo pockets his phone and stands, reaching for the pump and tapping the nozzle gently on the rim of the tank before settling it back onto the terminal and putting the gas cap back on, listening to the soft, rapid clicks as it seals; closing the small door that guards it all. His phone chimes. 

 

_jihoonzi_ replied to your comment.

 

> dont act like u wouldnt b grinding right back on gyu

√ Seen

 

 

_Night of August 26_

Apartment

LA

 

Keys jingle in hand to signal his incoming, and that’s as much announcement as Wonwoo allows himself while coming through the door, hearing the dull murmur of voices on the television. The entrance falls shut as he toes off his shoes and kicks them into the ever-growing mound of footwear by their front door. He makes a mental note to get the guys to pitch in for a shoe rack sometime within the next months as he ambles past the living quarters into the adjoining kitchen, canting his chin out in greeting to Seokmin, the only one to peel his eyes from the screen to smile in return. The rest of them are glued to whatever is happening, specifically Soonyoung and Mingyu; Jihoon only looks up briefly every few seconds while occupying himself on his phone. Wonwoo barely notices Hansol is present in the space with them until there’s a brush of the other against his shoulder, already digging through the grocery bags he’d only just placed on the counter.

 

“Oh, _fuck yeah_ , you got fruit snacks.”

 

Seokmin makes his way over to them, managing to have pulled himself from where he was trapped on the sofa between Mingyu and Soonyoung, clothes rumpled and red hair disheveled at odd ends. Wonwoo instinctively reaches and pats down some stray curls before unpacking the rest of the groceries, watching the two younger boys talk while pulling food and new dishes out.

 

“You better not eat all of them this time.”

 

Seokmin snatches one of three packets in Hansol’s hands and brings it to his teeth to tear it open while the blonde just rolls his eyes and starts to walk off to his and Jihoon’s room.

 

“Absolutely no promises.”

 

The red head gives a half-hearted sneer in reply then looks to the elder, who’s busying himself amongst the cabinets.

 

“You got new mugs?”

 

“Had to since butterfingers over there decided to break some of the old ones.”

 

Wonwoo looks to the couch where the mentioned clutz sits, unaware and enraptured by the show.

 

“What are you guys watching?”

 

“Grey’s.”

 

“Scrubs is better.”

 

Seokmin shrugs, ‘ _debatable,_ ’ and begins helping as well, taking the last of the bags’ contents and laying them on the counter, collecting the plastics and balling them up to store for use later on, humming all the while. Wonwoo joins in quietly, recognizing the tune from some musical they’d watched months ago, not thinking hard to remember what it was as he moves about and slides the last of the food his mom had packed for the six of them into the fridge. He keeps his eyes on the contents, searching for snacks while he’s there, finding a pot of half finished spaghetti, an assortment of condiments from various fast food trips, and a bag cherries. Opting for the fruit, he takes the bag and calls over his shoulder for Seokmin to grab him the strainer and he hears the other mulling around in the dishwasher to pull it out while he closes the fridge and makes his way over to the sink. The younger meets him halfway, still singing under his breath as he places the colander into the sink, but falling quiet while he sits himself up on the counter to keep Wonwoo company, watching as he pours the cherries into the perforated bowl. The older doesn’t pay much mind as he washes off the dark red bulbs, but feels eyes on him and he fares a glance at the other, who watches with an inquisitive gaze and a curious smile.

 

“Yes?”

 

“I saw you and Gyu on the patio last Friday… Before you dropped us all off?”

 

“Did you?”

 

“The two of you looked _really_ comfortable.”

 

“I was offering an incoherent drunkard solace.”

 

Seokmin’s melodic laughter rings from his throat, earning an annoyed look from Soonyoung who hadn’t moved his attention from the screen since Wonwoo walked in. The younger offers a sweet, heart shaped smile in reply to the irate stare thrown toward him, watching as it immediately melts away and the grinning boy is left victorious while Soonyoung turns back to the tv, smiling to himself as a rosy complexion blooms on the apples of his cheeks. Wonwoo can’t help the smile that plays at the corner of his lips at the brief interaction, closing off the faucet.

 

“How are the both of you?”

 

“Y’know, same old, same old.”

 

“You guys are sweet together.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

The younger colors to a shade only ranging a few hues lighter than his hair. He busies himself with putting a cherry in his mouth which still holds a small smile. Wonwoo just grins and grabs a paper towel to dry the strainer with before making his way to the living area, walking directly in front of the television specifically to draw protests from the watchers and sinking into a secondhand armchair he’d bought from a thrift store when they’d first moved in. Mingyu shoots him a look before reaching across the small space between them to snatch a cherry, placing it in his mouth, stem and all and huffing out a laugh at the older’s look of mild displeasure. Wonwoo thinks to look away before the brunette can show off knot he tied with just his tongue, though he still catches it from the corner of his eye. He’s seen the trick before and has yet to get used to it. His ears still burn at the thought of the other’s _tongue_ doing that. He puts a cherry in his mouth and swats away Mingyu’s invading hand when he feels a heavy arm reach over his shoulder for another fruit.

 

“Greedy.”

 

“You didn’t ask.”

 

“You let me have one just before.”

 

“Yeah, and then I saw you put the stem in your mouth with the rest of the cherry.”

 

“You like that trick.”

 

“I really don’t.”

 

The younger just hums, tone lolling with skepticism while Wonwoo concedes and places the colander on the coffee table between all of them. Mingyu and Jihoon reach over together and younger immediately recedes back at the look the blonde shoots him, withering slightly while Jihoon grabs a handful of the fruit and pops two on his tongue as he settles back into place in the loveseat where Seokmin gracelessly places himself despite the blonde’s complaints.

 

The dull murmur of the television overtakes the room. Wonwoo finds a book to read in the pile he keeps on the coffee table to ignore the drone of McDreamy and Meredith and whoever else is fucking in this hospital of chaos, not noticing as the room occupants slowly dwindle. When he looks up, Netflix has dimmed, ‘ _Are you still watching Grey’s Anatomy?_ ’ guilts them from the screen. He casts a sideward glance to Mingyu, asleep on the couch and begins to search for the remote, closing off menus and shutting off the flatscreen, cleaning his way through the living room. He ambles back to the couch where the other slumbers quietly, legs tucked up and arms around a pillow and Wonwoo wonders idly how someone so large manages to make himself look so small. He watches for a moment longer before reaching out and prodding his fingers into the younger’s side, crooking his fingers just slightly and he can’t help the grin that eases onto his lips as Mingyu jolts awake and looks up at the older with death in his eyes.

 

“You could’ve left me here to sleep.”

 

“Oh, and then put up with you complaining about how stiff your neck is for the rest of tomorrow? Don’t think so.”

 

_Morning of August 27_

Apartment

LA

 

The pillow thrown over his head only muffles the alarm for as long as he thinks he can’t hear it, but it lasts for barely a few seconds and his irritability grows with every chime. Blind extremity gropes across the cool wood of his night stand, pads of fingers seeking the smooth contour of his phone, feeling it beneath his hand. He hits the sleep button multiple times until the device takes the hint to stop ringing. A deep sigh emits itself from under the soft mound of his pillow and the dormant resident makes an attempt to rouse himself from the bed. An attempt which consists of minimal movement save for burrowing deeper within his sheets.

 

First attempt failed.

 

He’s awake, just too dazed and groggy to move. His alarm chimes again and this time Soonyoung’s voice meets him from across the small gap between beds, complaining that he needs to get up and shut off his phone. Wonwoo raises his head at that, pillow falling sideward off the bed.

 

“Can’t you get it?”

 

“If I get your phone, I’m going to smash it.”

 

“Fair.”

 

He gets the cell and completely shuts off the alarm, casting it aside into the sea of folds in his duvet. Dropped just as quickly as he had picked it up. He stares ahead at the wall, gaze unfocused and blurry without his glasses and he finally uses the need to see as an excuse to rise from bed, toes meeting the matted carpet of the room. He bumbles about, gathering his glasses, clothes, and towel before opening the door to the still sleeping apartment.

 

Padding quietly down the hall, his steps close to silence as he enters the darkened doorway next to Jihoon and Hansol’s room. Fingers search against the wall for the plastic switch, pressing down to illuminate the bathroom in a warm, yellow light. He closes the door and moves to crank open the shower, letting the water flow as steam slowly fills the small space.

 

~

 

If possible, Wonwoo leaves the bathroom sleepier than he had entered, passing into the hall midway through pulling down his shirt and is stopped from a collision by an outstretched hand, a familiar callous surface placed against his chest which drops away within seconds of his pull to a halt. He tugs his shirt the rest of the way over his head, staring through half fogged glasses up at Mingyu.

 

“You’re up early.”

 

“Seokmin forced me awake so we could work out.”

 

“Fun.”

 

The other huffs out a humorless laugh and moves past, clearly disgruntled by the early hour, only casting one glance backwards to the sleepy, damp boy still in the middle of the hallway to mention he made breakfast with a tired upturn to his lip. Wonwoo offers a small smile in return and ignores the tripping rhythm against his ribs.

 

_Afternoon of August 27_

Library

UCLA

 

He presses his face into the pages of his MedSurg text book and lets a muffled groan roll out of his throat, frustrated by the readings he’s yet to absorb over the last half hour. Mingyu stares at him from the adjacent seat with a an amused smirk that Wonwoo can _hear_ just from the way the quiet laughter drifts off his tongue.

 

“What’s the material?” 

 

Wonwoo looks up from the book, glasses askew on his face with a small print in the lens from where it pressed into his skin, “Fluid and electrolytes, which isn’t hard in theory, but having to read about excesses and deficiencies is making what little brain cells I have left to spare go extinct.”

 

Mingyu nods with pseudo-sympathy and reaches to slide Wonwoo’s glasses off his nose, bringing them to his lips and breathing out onto the lens. He pinches the fogged glass between cloth covered digits and wipes away the smear, sliding the frames up the bridge of his own nose, staring at Wonwoo, who finds a strange intimacy in the gesture. It makes his gut twist.

 

“Isn’t your entire year going to be dealing with imbalances like that?”

 

“Yes and it’s going to kill me, I’m sure of it.” The older holds his hand out, “Can I have my glasses back? You’re going to ruin your eyes.”

 

The younger boy leans back in his seat, ignoring the outstretched fingers of the other and he looks around the conference room the other had reserved for the two of them to use during their gap period.

 

“So you’re saying I have to listen to you bitch and moan about nursing for an hour?”

 

“You act as if you don’t listen to me bitch and moan about nursing in the apartment, it makes up half of any interesting thing I have to say.”

 

“Bold of you to assume anyone finds it interesting.”

 

“Give me my glasses back.”

 

Mingyu shakes his head, something petulant in the subtle jut of his lower lip, but he doesn’t fight as Wonwoo leans forward to retrieve the glasses, pulling them off by the bridge of the frames and sliding them back up his own nose. He’s still out of his seat as his eyes adjust and his gaze meets the soft brown of the other, who’s staring at him with an expression he can’t read. There’s a subtle shift in the room while they watch each other, leant into the small gap that holds something impossible between the two of them, and it settles in the air around them, stirring filaments of dust into Wonwoo’s unfocused gaze when he drifts back into his seat, throat dry. He blinks, dark eyes finding their way to his book as he tugs his fingers idly into the thick curls at his nape, pretending he doesn’t feel the blossoming heat in his ears under the other’s eyes. He becomes somewhat thankful he got too lazy to blow dry his hair in the early morning, using his curls to shield the soft pink glow of his auricle from Mingyu’s stare, which breaks with the movement of Wonwoo’s hand through the thick waves. The rest of their hour together is spent in relative silence, the younger caught up in his notes, pen scratching rhythmically against his notebook, while the older forfeits early and pushes his book aside to spend the rest of the time half asleep and pushing down the tight feeling in his chest.

 

He doesn’t rise until he feels Mingyu’s hand wrap around his upper arm to jostle him slightly.

 

“C’mon sleeping beauty, let’s get to class.”

 

_Night of August 27_

Apartment

LA

 

“He’s into you.”

 

Wonwoo stares up at the ceiling, his chest brimming with an unsure swell that strains his breathing. He’s lying on the floor of the bedroom, laptop open and bleeding out a ballad to drown their conversation from any eavesdropping roommates, while Soonyoung sits above him in bed, watching with sympathetic eyes and a slightly amused smile. Wonwoo relayed what happened in the library to him and how ‘ _It’s probably nothing. Nothing even happened. It was just weird. I’m reading too much into it_ ,’ after he stalked into the apartment, saturated with an air of angst to mask the Gordian knot of impossibly complicated feelings settled in the crook between his lungs. Now he lies on matted carpet, contemplating constellations in the pattern of the popcorn ceiling.

 

Soonyoung tries again, throwing his pillow at the dazed boy, disrupting the dark curls settled on his forehead at the small gust released on impact.

 

“Stop ignoring me and listen. He’s into you.”

 

“Has he said that to you?”

 

“No, but it’s so obvious with the way you act around each other that it’d be stupid to think otherwise.”

 

“I think he’s like that with everyone.”

 

Soonyoung narrows his gaze, his hands reaching for his other pillows, primed to throw another mound of packed feathers at Wonwoo’s head before being interrupted by a knock at the door. Hansol peers in, staring at the two older boys with some concern in his gaze, but he neglects to comment on it.

 

“Hey, if your angst fest is over-–”

 

Wonwoo interrupts, “It’s not.”

 

“Dinner’s ready.”

 

“Angst fest is paused, I’m starved. Brooding activities will resume after dinner,” Soonyoung interjects before Wonwoo can protest. Hansol watches in the doorway with a pursed smile and raised brow before disappearing from the small opening, leaving the two boys by themselves with the older of them making an attempt to rouse the other from the floor by putting his feet next to the him and digging sock covered toes into his ribs. The younger’s response of displeasure is almost immediate as he sits up and out of the way with a yelp, glaring up at the older, who laughs as he makes a quick escape out the door and leaves Wonwoo staring after him, distaste pulling his lips into a fine scowl.


	3. One Sided Duet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wonwoo finds a certain amount of regret in his recent choices.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr.](http://heylovre.tumblr.com/)  
> [pinterest.](https://www.pinterest.ph/heylovre/)  
> [twitter.](http://twitter.com/heylovre)  
> gfx for this chapter: none :c
> 
> quick note: i just want u guys to know for anyone who's been keeping up consistently with chapter updates, the next one may be delayed because of school assignments that are coming up for me, sorry in advance!! to make up for it this chapter is hefty so there's more for you to read! thank you and sorry again!
> 
> feel free to comment down below on if theres anything you want to see come from the fic, the structure is loose and i'd love to implement things you guys want to read!

_Evening of August 30_

Apartment

LA

 

A somber twist settles on Wonwoo’s features as he steps through the door of the apartment, exhaustion carved into the set of his brow and curve of his mouth. His lip feels strained as he offers a pursed smile in greeting to Hansol on the couch, who reads through the expression easily with a sympathetic look, and he barely offers a nod to Mingyu and his friend, _Minghao_ , he remembers vaguely in the back of his mind, who’re sat in the kitchen talking. The tired turn of his eyes draws away from the others as he furthers into the apartment to reach his room, dumping his backpack onto the floor and peeling off his wrinkled white scrubs and tossing them into the hamper at the foot of his bed. His body falls into autopilot and he tracks around, gathering new clothes before shuffling into the bathroom, tugging off the last of his under clothes and stepping into the shower. Wonwoo’s mind is blank as he lets the initially cold stream of water wash over him, keeping still as it slowly begins to heat and his body finds mobility again, hands seeking his shampoo to squeeze the gel out, working it into his hair and rinsing out the product he’d so carefully styled it back with this morning.

 

His last three days were spent waking up early and rushing around a hospital ward to distribute medications, take vital signs, pull out IVs, not have enough time to eat, try to come up with some problem or another that the patient he was assigned to seems to present with what little they’d say or do, amongst other things. He stands under the outflow of hot water, letting it loosen the tension in his back as he contemplates his career choices with small observations to himself as to why it would be okay to transfer this late into the program. The thoughts aren’t entertained for too long, busying himself with the rest of his shower, anticipating being able to sit down and relax. He shuts off the water and steps out, grabbing the towel sitting on the countertop and rubbing it over his face, down his neck, making quick work to wick away the water, and he hangs up the now damp material before stepping into his clothes, relishing the considerable warmth of the material against his quickly cooling skin, adjusting the garments idly as they cling to damp areas. He only gives himself one glance over in the vanity of the bathroom, examining the large hoodie, that he thinks was Mingyu’s at some point, swallowing his torso and half of his thighs and the worn in pajama pants he probably should replace soon if the holes in the material say anything. He collects the stray clothes on the floor and passes by his room to toss them in the hamper with the rest of the discarded laundry, grabbing his phone and glasses while he’s there.

 

Laughter drifts down the hallway to Wonwoo’s ears, the affected voice of a comedian sounding against the walls as he rounds his way into the living room, placing himself on the couch opposite from Hansol, stretching his legs out to rest on the younger who only makes slight protest, not making a move to displace the other’s limbs. 

 

“Feeling better?”

 

The older just nods in return, smiling tiredly and letting his gaze drift back to the television, wondering aloud, “Who is this?”

 

“John Mulaney.”

 

“He looks kinda like Seokmin, if he was older and white.”

 

Hansol tosses his head back with laughter, while Mingyu interjects from where he and Minghao are watching from the kitchen, “That’s what I was saying!”

 

Wonwoo smiles, taking out his phone and recording a clip of the screen and posting it on his instagram story. The caption reads:

> @seokmydk this u?

 

He keeps a small smile as he places his phone on the coffee table, settling back into the couch and sinking further into his sweater, his expression satisfied but ridden with sleep. He keeps watching for as long as his exhaustion will allow him, dancing between consciousness and slumber with eyes feeling heavy and his glasses pressing into the side of his face.

 

~

 

When he wakes, his glasses are off, frames facing him from the coffee table, and he feels a warm palm on his thigh, gently rocking his leg to rouse him. Eyes flicker to the source of his consciousness, finding Seokmin smiling kindly down at him. Wonwoo tiredly leers back at him, voice rough with sleep.

 

“Oh my god, I can’t believe John Mulaney came to personally wake me up.”

 

Seokmin immediately digs his fingers into the soft flesh of Wonwoo’s thigh, smile unfaltering and a repsonsive yelp intermingled with helpless laughter comes from the older boy. Mingyu interrupts before the situation escalates, calling Seokmin over for help with the food while Wonwoo curls his legs up, watching the younger with a suspicious gaze, craning his neck to follow the other’s receding back. He stays like that, blurred focus on the kitchen for a few moments before he decides he’s uncomfortable and stretches out, a soft groan resonating in his throat. He reaches for his glasses, hooking the arms of the thin frame over his ears as he stands, walking the short distance to the kitchen and reseating himself on a stool at the counter with Minghao and Jihoon, watching as Seokmin and Mingyu move in something of a dance around each other while they cook. Wonwoo realizes two are missing from their company, the youngest who consistently disappears and reappears in the apartment without ever being seen and the oldest who’s possibly working.

 

“Where are Hansol and Soonyoung?”

 

Jihoon offers up an answer first, “He got picked up by his carpool for work and Soonyoung should be back from work soon.”

 

“Hansol got a job?”

 

“I guess? He was in uniform when he walked out of the room.”

 

“Did he say _where_ he was working?”

 

“Some bowling alley nearby.”

 

“He would find the most niche sort of job to hold, wouldn’t he.”

 

It’s more of a statement than a question, making Jihoon smirk and Minghao giggle at the remark, the latter propping his elbows onto the counter and leaning forward into the conversation of the other two. Wonwoo’s gaze drops to him with a smile and he tilts his head, question perched on his tongue.

 

“So, are you being held at gunpoint to eat with us tonight?”

 

Minghao’s smile parts with a poised reply that’s quickly interrupted by Mingyu, who remains with his back to the three, but replies in place of the other nonetheless.

 

“No one held him up with any sort of weapon to keep him here.”

 

The guest in question opts his own response, ignoring the other, “He already fed me a bite of food and told me that it was poisoned, then threatened that if I don’t stay for dinner, I’d never get the antidote.”

 

Minghao smiles dryly at the disgruntled whine of their tall cook, who turns and pouts with his brows pulled together and wearing an expression of ultimate hurt, “You make me sound so cruel.”

 

Wonwoo laughs, “You are cruel. Especially since you didn’t offer me a bite of food.”

 

Mingyu concedes and takes a fork, layering a decent amount of food onto it before holding it out to Wonwoo, making mention that it’s hot, but it doesn’t stop the older as he leans onto his hands, or more so the sleeves that swallow his hands, balancing carefully to meet the other halfway across the counter as he takes the fork in his mouth and hums contently as the flavor burning itself into his tastebuds. He looks up at Mingyu through his lashes and catches the same unreadable expression he was becoming familiarized with, but the thought is interrupted by a dry tone.

 

“You’re poisoned now too.”

 

Wonwoo drops back into his chair, having to cover his mouth with the cuff of his sleeve to stop himself from spitting up his food with laughter. Mingyu whines again, petulant and childish with an accompanying wiggle to punctuate the entire gesture while Minghao grins and turns back to Jihoon and Wonwoo with a slight raise of his brows. A short-lived silence blankets the group, only intermingled with Seokmin’s constant, quiet hum and the sizzle of food until the door opens and a laughing Soonyoung spills into the entryway with someone else on his tail, a slightly smaller figure with pale hair that catches under the warm wash of the incandescent bulbs and soft, lovely features. Vague recognition flickers on his face when seeing Wonwoo, but the look received in reply is reserved albeit curious at the new guest. The silent exchange is brief and quickly cast aside as the blonde moves past everyone to press behind Mingyu, crowding and already asking for a bite of the food while Wonwoo turns to Jihoon and Minghao, the youngest of the three looking neither unconcerned nor confused by the new presence, prompting a brief interrogation from the trio’s eldest.

 

“Do you know him?”

 

“Seungkwan. He’s a classmate of mine and Mingyu’s…Think he works with Soonyoung too?”

 

The mentioned answers from where he’s settled himself at Seokmin’s side, nodding amidst his reply, “We wait at the same bar-slash-restaurant.”

 

The blonde– _Seungkwan_ – jumps in, “I came along today because I heard Mingyu was cooking and I’m not going to miss free dinner.”

 

The taller mumbles a response, ‘ _moocher,_ ’ but the words bear no malice as Seungkwan scrunches his nose and moves to situate himself on the counter, his eyes falling on Soonyoung with an expectant air, “Care to introduce me?”

 

The eldest rolls his eyes, untucking a hand from where it was folded onto his chest, gesturing in vague directions to each of the roommates and the stray guest.

 

“Seokmin.”

 

“The boyfriend.”

 

The redhead’s nape flushes, but remains silent with his back still turned to them all.

 

“Mingyu.”

 

“Clutz.”

 

“Hey!”

 

“Wonu.”

 

“ _Finally,_ a face to a name.”

 

He purses his lips, brow raising with some confusion, but is given no time to decipher the meaning behind the words when Minghao clears his throat unexpectedly and Soonyoung moves on.

 

“Jihoonie.”

 

The nickname earns a spiteful glare. Seungkwan remains quiet.

 

“And Minghao.”

 

“Been knew.”

 

Minghao just grins and blows a kiss to Seungkwan.

 

_Afternoon of August 31_

Coldstone Creamery

LA

 

The overhead bell on the door notifies their entrance and Wonwoo sees something akin to fear in Mingyu’s eyes from where he stands behind the counter, the group of boys pouring in from the heat signaling nothing but chaos to him. Wonwoo can’t help the smile that tugs at his lips while the rest of them crowd up to freezer, voices overlapping with small arguments and suggestions breaking through the general hum of them all. He catches the younger’s eye and makes his way from where he’s trapped in the middle of the group to lean up on the glass and talk with him.

 

“You’re not even gonna greet us?”

 

“Welcome to Coldstone Creamery, what can I get you?”

 

Mingyu’s tone adopts a synthetic cadence, practiced and almost comfortable enough on his tongue to trick a customer while he smiles tightly. Wonwoo grimaces and shakes his head.

 

“Why are you all even here?” 

 

“We’re gonna walk around, grab dinner and then probably go to a karaoke bar if Seungkwan and Seokmin have their way. Figured we’d pick you up along the way. It’s the end of your shift isn’t it?”

 

His eyes follow the younger’s to the clock on the wall, 10 minutes till 2PM and Mingyu nods, a smile growing on his lips, “Yeah, almost.”

 

Wonwoo just nods with a smile and watches as the younger trails off to talk with the other boys, dissecting the way he looks in that fragment of time; too big for the cramped area past the freezer, black polo tight around his chest and shoulders, and the warm burnt bronze of his hair tucked away in a baseball cap he’d fitted backwards. There something wistful in the short breath he exhales before he feels a familiar grip come around his wrist, thumb pressed into his pulse, pulling his gaze onto the brassy haired boy who rests his head on the other’s shoulder. Cool breath fans against the shell of his ear and he can’t help the soft flush blossoming under his skin at the proximity.

 

“His shirt looks like its about to rip at the seams if he takes too deep of a breath.”

 

“Jun, can you keep the comments in for two seconds?”

 

“No, I’ve been wanting to see you waxing poetic for months, and I’m not gonna let up now that I have a front row seat!”

 

The younger of the two almost lets out a whine, but it’s cut off in his throat when he becomes caged in on his opposite side, the cool of a thin silk shirt tickling his arm and he sees pale, rose colored hair in his periphery, telling him who’s now pressed against his right, effectively trapping him.

 

“Whats the consensus on Wonu’s boyfriend?”

 

“He’s not my-”

 

“Hot. He makes the apron and the gross polo look good, it’s a little maddening.”

 

Wonwoo sends something of a prayer up to whatever higher being is listening to release him from the hell of his friends speaking on either side of him as if his existence is null and his physical presence is nothing but that of a wall. He sighs.

 

“Are you guys getting anything?”

 

Mingyu’s voice breaks Wonwoo’s descent into his mind of _once again_ contemplating his choices of company amongst other regrettable things in his life. He drags himself out and meets the taller’s eyes from where he’s watching behind the safety of the counter with a humored smirk and a raised brow at the helpless look on the sable haired boy’s face. But the expression is quick to fall.

 

“I know what _I_ want, but it’s not on the menu.”

 

Junhui’s voice curls warmly in Wonwoo’s ear, something creamy in the way his tone teases from his lips. Joshua’s laugh is sweet and honeyed from his other side, and he feels the shorter shake his head, scolding, ‘ _Junhui_ ,’ but he can see from the struck look on Mingyu’s face that he’s caught on Jun’s words. Safety of the counter be damned, the older has already found a way to harass the poor, befuddled boy opposite of the trio.

 

Wonwoo finds his voice when Joshua pinches his fingers into the back of his palm, a silent _save him_ sent through the touch, “Mingyu, this is Junhui. Jun, Gyu. And, you know Shua already, I think.”

 

The taller finds relief as he tears his eyes away from the mischievous upturned features of the human sized tumor now implanted in Wonwoo’s side, his gaze settling on the more forgiving facade of the pink haired boy who smiles soft and pretty and Mingyu offers something back equally as welcoming and laced with relief in return, safer from the molesting gaze of Jun, “Yeah, I remember. It’s good to see you again.”

 

Night of August 31

K-TV Bar

LA

 

Dinner goes over as well as anyone could hope with thirteen boys flooding into a single sushi dive and horrifying the host when they approach the small podium. The little group of six that had gathered in the ice cream parlor grew little by little through as the afternoon melted into the evening. Seungcheol and Chan join first at Joshua’s extension to them, Jeonghan shortly after, looking tired, but happy to be out after work. Minghao next with Soonyoung and Jihoon, the latter of the three slowly looking like he wants to go back to the apartment when Junhui finds his way over to attach at his side, smiling and teasing, while Mingyu looks awash with relief, having spent most of the afternoon victim to the older. Hansol arrives last at the entrance of the sushi restaurant, still in his work uniform and climbing out of the back of a sport SUV, not even looking back when the passenger side window rolls down and two girls in the front cat call him on his way up to the group, cackling as the they drive past and out of sight. The group wants to question, but figures not to at the look Hansol shoots Seungkwan when he starts to tease.

 

The meal is over quickly, their small hoard anticipating the karaoke bar afterward as they finish dividing their bill and rush into cars to spill out in front a building that looks like it should probably be condemned, but it adds to the energy of the area. They’re some of the only guests, but they don’t mind, filing down the hallway and into a room to start the night off, everyone managing to somehow arrange themselves despite the tight fit. Wonwoo finds himself pinned between Seokmin and Soonyoung with Junhui in his lap for a span of time that he can’t figure to measure, idly sipping from the flask Jun had brought and was gracious enough to share. The couple that cages them in sings a duet and both are a little sharp in comparison to the song arrangement, but no one complains besides Seungkwan, who competes with them on the other microphone, making commentary over their singing. His hand pats Jun’s thigh, asking wordlessly for reprieve from the weight which is slowly abided to as the other rises, allowing for the younger to escape and make it to the door, only faltering when fingers twine through his at the last moment, Joshua having followed from his spot.

 

The hall has the same harsh, indigo lighting as the room they situate, casting odd halos around the pair’s crowns when they catch sight of themselves in a mirror lining the walls. The older pulls out his phone, opening the camera app as he props himself against Wonwoo, lips curled in a simper and head on his shoulder and the taller reciprocates with his head tilted to rest atop the other’s, barely a smile gracing his lips as the picture is taken, the small image capturing their reflections, blue and glowing. Joshua looks satisfied at it, grinning up at him with a giggle and he kisses the high curve of Wonwoo’s cheek, finally releasing the other’s hand as he makes his way back to the room. The taller laughs.

 

“That’s all you wanted to do?”

 

“Yeah, I didn’t have a picture with you from tonight.”

 

Wonwoo shakes his head, turning to make his way down the hall as Joshua’s voice echoes to him from the door.

 

“Where are you going?”

 

“I have to piss!”

 

~

 

The seating arrangement of the room has changed when Wonwoo walks back in, his spot having been lost in the midst of it. He surveys carefully, picking out a small gap between a dozing Jeonghan and Mingyu who’s giggling around the lip of his drink at something Joshua is whispering into his ear at his opposite side. He eyes the pair warily, but makes his way to the empty space nonetheless, dropping down and half falling into the brunette’s lap with some apology before he situates into the tight spot. The other’s arm get caught between them and takes some maneuvering to free until its on the back of the couch, and Wonwoo finds himself tucked slightly more into Mingyu’s side than he likes. Mingyu doesn’t complain. Joshua gives them a look, something sly in the turn of his gaze. Wonwoo decides to keep his mouth shut. And so they stay like that, mostly quiet and enjoying the singing kept up by Seungkwan. At points, the younger’s slurred, alcohol fueled whispers find their way to Wonwoo’s ear, nose nudging into dark locks and lips brushing against the cusp of his auricle, voice low and still barely heard above the music playing and the older of the two thanks the dark lighting for masking the color he’s sure is accompanying the sharp burn under his skin.

 

The microphone finds its way under Wonwoo’s nose at some point during the night with Seokmin’s hands attached to it, asking for, ‘ _one song, please. we haven’t heard you sing yet,_ ’ and he takes it as his mode escape from the cloying heat of Mingyu’s _everything_ ; the hot of his breath against his neck, the warm weight of his arm around his shoulder, their bodies pressed together in a tight line from ankle to shoulder has every nerve in Wonwoo’s body humming. He wraps his fingers around the mic, fingers overlapping Seokmin’s and allows himself to be pulled away, the tension easing out of him with every inch he’s led away from Mingyu and to where Seungkwan holds the songbook. He tells Seokmin to choose a song for both of them while he cocks he head and looks at Hansol, who watches the television that broadcasts other song titles for them, sipping something from a cup which Wonwoo wordlessly asks for with an extension of his hand, to which the younger complies by pressing the cool plastic to his palm. What he doesn’t expect to hit his tongue when he tilts the cup to his lips, is alcohol, but it is, and it’s strong, and barely curbed by the cranberry juice its’ paired with.

 

“Who got you the drink?”

 

“Junhui.”

 

The mentioned doesn’t even notice, too busy smiling at a drunken, clingy Jihoon who’s tucked under his arm and drifting into a zone of unconsciousness. Wonwoo gives Hansol a look, but is just met with a grin and he can’t help the small upturn that tugs at his mouth as he hands the drink back and turns to Seokmin, who seems to have narrowed down the selection as he looks up from his bent position by Seungkwan’s lap.

 

“How comfortable are you with singing Korean music?”

 

“Fine with it as long as I know the song.”

 

“Can we sing ‘She Didn’t Love Me’?”

 

Wonwoo nods, recalling it from when Seokmin would belt it out around the apartment and when he sought out the song out of his own curiosity and began to learn it.

 

“You’ll have to lead, I don’t think I remember it too well.”

 

“That’s alright, as long as you sing.”

 

The younger offers a sweet smile that makes Wonwoo’s already present smirk grow wider, as the song starts, Seungkwan having found it amidst the exchange.

 

The piano creates a new atmosphere, simple chords settling across the restless group and easing them into a silence. Twelve pairs of eyes remain on Seokmin, who’s features are serene in the wash of blue lighting as he breathes and begins singing, the high note of the lead in hitting. Liquid warmth sweeps from between his lips, echoing out in a perfect compliment to the beginning melodies. Wonwoo waits, holding the second mic in his hands and he eases his voice in alongside the other half a minute in, a soft harmony only to elevate the other’s voice. His voice fades off, only providing a background through out the first half of the song until Seokmin looks at him, lips curving elegantly to form the last of the first chorus and nodding for Wonwoo to pick up.

 

The words are practiced as they come off his tongue, his own musical voice an entire different color than Seokmin’s. It’s low and somber and a bittersweet edge resonates with the tight swell in his chest, and Wonwoo blames the alcohol for loosening his emotional gate and causing the slight sting in his eyes as he sings about the impossibility to hate or trust someone. He blinks rapidly and keeps his eyes to the screen, only looking to the younger, who looks wistful and lost in the music, occasionally adding in a harmony and smiling when he catches the older’s gaze. Wonwoo takes the turn to carry the chorus, the brimming feeling in his chest pushing against his ribs, singing about one sided love and putting the heartbreak in his voice, trying to spill out the fullness in his chest till the song finishes and he feels somewhat overwhelmed and lightheaded, the fading song echoing in his ears. He thinks it shows on his face when he finally breaks from his daze, Seokmin looking at him with parted lips, astonished eyes. They share a silent exchange, Seokmin’s expression a clear, ‘ _Are you alright_?’ and Wonwoo just shakes his head with a pursed smile, ‘ _I’m fine_ ,’ and he hears a sniffle from the side, finding Soonyoung with drunk flushed, tear stained cheeks and Seungkwan next to him wiping away a few escaped tears. The other’s are laughing somewhat at the mournful reactions to the song, but cheering for the two singers nonetheless at the ‘ _powerful performance, thank you for a beautiful song_ ,’ and Wonwoo clears his throat, plastering a synthetic grin on his face and muttering, ‘ _thanks, but I know I’m that good, no need to tell me,_ ’ and it earns him a gentle shove to the shoulder from Seokmin.

 

~

 

The apartment is overflowing with boys by the time Wonwoo manages to make it into his room. Every piece of furniture is occupied, including his own bed, which he offered up to Joshua who took it thankfully with a flop into the cushions, snoring with in moments of hitting the bed. Chan took up the couch, Seungkwan sprawled out on the floor of Hansol and Jihoon’s room, who were the only two that weren’t displaced from their normal sleeping arrangements; Junhui and Minghao occupying the floor of Mingyu and Seokmin’s room, who’s beds were taken up by Seungcheol and Jeonghan, and lastly Soonyoung and Wonwoo’s room, which was no exception to the crowd. With Joshua occupying his bed, Wonwoo opted for the floor, heavily padded by comforters and pillows and blankets to make it a semi-decent sleeping arrangement. He’s crowded in with Seokmin and Soonyoung, the eldest having accepted gracious defeat upon seeing Mingyu tucked into his bed and began getting blankets to create the makeshift bed Wonwoo laid himself carefully onto.

 

His places himself on his back, trying his best not to jostle the other two, one of whom sleeps with only quiet snores and the other who turns when he feels the movement besides him, gaze penetrating the side of Wonwoo’s head even in the dark. He can’t see the other’s face when he shifts to his side, but the soft whisper immediately lets him know it’s Seokmin, who seeks out his hand from under the shared blanket, loosely tangling there fingers together.

 

“Are you okay?”

 

“I’m okay.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“…I think so.”

 

“You hesitated.”

 

“The song just hit a soft spot. You know I’m a romantic.”

 

“…You sounded heartbroken.”

 

Wonwoo doesn’t reply, but feels a hot tear roll along the bridge of his nose, not realizing he’d been crying. He lets a small sniffle out and the sympathetic click of Seokmin’s tongue makes his chest tighten all the more as a silent cry wracks through him. His shoulders tremble and he’s never felt so small until the other’s arm comes around him to comfort him, pulling him in and letting the tears soak into his shirt from where Wonwoo’s face is pressed against him. Soonyoung rouses from Seokmin’s back at the muffled noise and looks over, a mumbled question slipping out in a sleep thick voice with a reply that sounds like a quiet, ‘ _he doesn’t feel well_ ,’ and that’s all it takes. The oldest rises from his spot and steps over the two, carefully nudging them over so he can take place at Wonwoo’s back, rounding his arm to cover both him and Seokmin. It’s protective and somewhat comforting to Wonwoo, who allows himself this moment of weakness despite the ugly taste it leaves in his mouth. He needs this, he’ll selfishly take the comfort where its given, using it smooth over his facade and keep his quiet until the dam cracks again. For now he leaks tears, draining away the sadness until he sleeps, soundlessly slipping into a deep exhaustion.


	4. Elton John Heals Wounded Hearts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr.](http://veonon.tumblr.com/)  
> [pinterest.](https://www.pinterest.ph/heylovre/)  
> [twitter.](http://twitter.com/heylovre)  
> gfx for this chapter: [movie screencaps](http://heylovre.tumblr.com/post/180689224956/meanie-college-au-scenes)
> 
> the BIGGEST of thank you's to my sweetest angel and my loveliest friend for taking the time to read this and give me tips to improve the flow of the chapter. i struggled so much with it but it turned out in a way i'm happy with! thank you all who have been following this actively for being patient with this update, i appreciate it greatly!

_Evening of September 1_

Taco Bell

LA

 

He’s fixed at Joshua’s side in the booth, the two of them sharing a various assortment of menu items and he can’t help the small chimes of laughter that escape him at the older’s disgust with the idea ofwhat they eat. Wonwoo bites into a quesadilla slice with relish and Joshua keeps his lip downturned as he chews on a cinnamon twist.

 

“Of all the places to find comfort food, you choose the one place I can’t stand.”

 

“I offered Chipotlé, but you said no.”

 

“Yeah, because I know what trash your stomach wants, and it’s not a good burrito bowl.”

 

The younger scoffs with mock offense and shakes his head. The silence pervades as the conversation fades from the air around them, and Wonwoo thinks to offer a small, ‘ _thanks_ ,’ and Joshua meets him halfway with a hand placed on his knee and a smile, ‘ _it’s the best I could offer on short notice.’_

 

That morning had awoken the older to Wonwoo attempting to climb into the bed, dazed and quiet in the silence and penumbra of 3 AM. They’d fallen asleep wordlessly in a cold tangle of limbs that brought memories of childhood sleepovers to mind, frozen toes against calves and laughter hidden under the blankets of makeshift forts. The younger of the two fell asleep with barely a word when Joshua’s arm weaved around his hip and he shrunk into him.

 

They’d been attached at the hip for the entire day, the rest of the group having drifted off at different times through the course of it, making vague conversation of meeting up the next day, but Joshua stayed behind when he was greeted by Wonwoo’s puffy eyes that had been hidden in the dark just in the earlier hours of that day. The younger sat still in bed while the other picked the crust of tears and sleep from his lashes, clumping the fine hairs together at odd peaks. The older makes a comment to let him do his make up one day and Wonwoo barks out a laugh, ‘ _maybe._ ’ 

 

_ Night of September 1 _

Park Records

LA

 

Evening persists into night, echoes of warmth holding onto the slowly chilling air as the two avoid going home, meandering steps guiding them anywhere. Joshua’s hand rests in the crook of Wonwoo’s elbow, a light hold to the younger who leads them through various stores, ‘ _I’m seeking retail therapy,_ ’ and the older muffles a laugh into his free hand. Filtered warmth cast through tinted windows of a record shop they frequent paints their features with odd lights as Wonwoo stares inside, debating.

 

“Been a while since we’ve gone in.”

 

“I know.”

 

“I think Jihoon’s working tonight.”

 

“Should we go in and bother him?”

 

A beat. The younger smirks, wordless reply found in the arch of his brow and the tug of the older to the door, the soft chime of bells on the door handle signaling their incoming. They spot Jihoon perched on the front counter and talking with his coworker– _Chanyeol_ – who looks up to smile, welcoming. The vague smell of age accompanied by the gentle thrum of old rock humming in the walls of the store from speakers hidden throughout surrounds them as Josh abandons Wonwoo, hand slipping away in the midst of the other moving deeper into the tall shelves of records amassed in impressive numbers. Thin fingers run over dusty spines of record sleeves, grip gentle while sliding them out from between each other to observe tracks, B-sides, contemplations for purchase. His name echoes from the rear of the store and he peeks around the shelving of discographies, dark eyes searching for the soft pink tint of hair. Wonwoo finds Joshua sitting on a sofa centered in a wide area towards the back, strategically masked by the towering shelves. A pile of vinyl sits on a coffee table in front of him, one taken in his lap as he turns toward a record player and removes the needle to replace the currently playing music with his choice. The taller approaches with curiosity in his gaze, catching the glossy font of, ‘ _Elton John,_ ’ scrawled across the sleeve as the needle touches down on the record, the speakers hooked to the store’s system crackling before the song starts. He sinks himself into the couch after moving the cover back to the coffee table and falls sideward with little grace onto the lap of the other, head pillowing on thighs. Joshua lets out a soft, ‘ _oof_ ,’ but smiles, hands moving in automatic response to comb through his hair; his nails a calming, dull scrape agains his skin. Wonwoo’s eyes fall shut and he absorbs the noises around him.

 

“How’re you feeling, Nonu?”

 

The nickname drifts soft into his ear, cottony and gentle from the other’s lip where it rarely broaches, ‘ _only to be used in the most dire of circumstances_ ,’ the older had once joked when Wonwoo commented on it. He doesn’t open his eyes, but hums with thought.

 

“I feel… Sad still. I don’t know. I’ve been stilted since last night.”

 

“You cried.”

 

“I know.”

 

“Is it because you were drunk?”

 

“A little? The song also struck me funny. Like I’d been stung in the chest.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Don’t act like you don’t know why.”

 

“Well I know _why_ , but it’s all vague. You don’t tell me much on him, Wonu.”

 

“It’s hard talking about him.”

 

“Keeping it in doesn’t help either.”

 

Wonwoo’s eyes hurt again. He doesn’t let it get the better of him as a sigh draws from his lips, “I just… I don’t have anything definite to pin on why I feel like this? Besides things he says or does when he’s drunk. All my feelings are based on whatever he does when he’s inebriated or when I’m pining after him when he’s sober and all we do is roast each other.”

 

The words struggle to push off his tongue and Joshua’s smile is amused when Wonwoo opens his eyes.

 

“What’s he like when he’s drunk?”

 

“Gross. Sweaty. Clingy. Talks too much.”

 

“Mm, I see why you’re so in for him.”

 

“No it’s– It’s like this, he’s frustrating and disgusting when he’s drunk, but everything is in earnest? But I also don’t want to trust him _because_ he’s drunk. His touch feels like it burns my skin when he hangs off of me and his words just stay seared in my brain forever whenever he opens his stupid mouth and I just want it to go away. I want it to stop so I can shovel out the feelings and make room for someone who would like me back instead of some frat guy who I’ve seen shove his tongue down several people’s throats over the last year.”

 

His ears are hot and the older’s finger feel cool when it brushes along the curve of it, touching briefly the piercing embedded there. Wonwoo distracts himself by staring at the similar one on Joshua’s ear, wearing a hoop matching to his own, small charms for each other.

 

“So his hot, mouthy promiscuity bothers you?”

 

His daze breaks and he huffs, humored frustration pulling his features as he closes his eyes, the _no_ he gives in reply is a drawn out groan while Joshua laughs, asking again, _what is it? ‘What’s bothersome about attention from a drunk hot guy?’_

 

“It’s the fact that the attention I get is _only_ when he’s drunk. What the fuck is that?”

 

“You’d rather no attention than drunk attention.”

 

“It’s easier knowing he doesn’t like me than not knowing anything.”

 

The older hums a sigh and moves his hand from Wonwoo’s hair to soothe the newly formed crease between his brows with his thumb, “I think what he does even when full of alcohol speaks volumes.”

 

“I think that’s a load of horseshit until he says something to me sober.”

 

“Tell him to stop.”

 

“Oh, thank you captain obvious, I never thought of that before.”

 

“Just a suggestion.”

 

Elton fills the silence that seeps between them and Wonwoo opens his eyes to look at Josh, meeting a thoughtful, knowing gaze that overtakes the other when they find conversations like this. Like Joshua had known all these answers and he had just wanted the younger to say it, to come to terms.

 

“What?”

 

“I’ve never seen you like this.”

 

“I’ve never had a drunk guy bothering me to this extent.”

 

“You make him sound like a guy from a bar that followed you home.”

 

“Might as well be.”

 

“Oh my god, did you meet him at a bar?”

 

The younger flushes and incredulity flashes into Joshua’s widening gaze, “ _You met him at a bar_.”

 

“Not exactly.”

 

“Then what happened?!”

 

“I met him through Seokmin, but I didn’t _meet_ him until I went out to a bar and I met him without knowing that it was him and then he turned up on my doorstep the next day with moving boxes and I was like, ‘ _Oh my god, I’m fucked_ ’.”

 

“That’s not so bad.”

 

“I danced with him, very terribly.”

 

“Still, honestly could have gone much worse than just that.”

 

“And he tried to kiss me.”

 

“Oh, _that’s_ kinda bad.”

 

“I didn’t kiss him back, but he tried and it was messy. I discovered he has sharp teeth. He didn’t seem to remember it though so I brushed it off.”

 

“So you’re just routinely harassed by him now?”

 

“Kinda.”

 

_Night of September 2_

Jeonghan’s Townhouse

Burbank

 

Wonwoo has tucked himself into the folds of clothes, pressed deep into a closet with breath held, eyes seeking the dark for any movement he could hope to detect in his line of sight. Nothing falls into his gaze, but the sound of socks against the aged carpet tips him off. A clipped whisper breaks through the shadows.

 

“Wonwoo?”

 

He stays quiet, pushing back into coats and sweaters, listening with a strained ear. Footfalls approach him and he feels the coats surrounding him move before a warm touch grazes his collar.

 

“Wonu?”

 

“What, Gyu?” His tone is biting and his hand bats away the other’s as an unseen sneer tugs his lip which grows when he feels the closet shrink and the taller maneuvers them around in the tight space. They’re tucked into the corner with the hanging garments shoved to the side and Mingyu’s hand is planted by Wonwoo’s head on the wall behind him. It does nothing to alleviate any closeness in their proximity, pressed to each other in a line from chest to knee.

 

“Cheol almost caught me.”

 

“You should’ve let him.”

 

Mingyu laughs and Wonwoo flits to put his hand over the taller’s mouth, feeling the warm exhale wash over his knuckles and disrupt his hair and ignoring the smile he feels on his palm. He trains his ear to the sound of any oncoming noise and hears something of victories in where he would guess to be the living room as Seungcheol manages to pull someone from their hiding spot. It sounds like Soonyoung from the small fight he puts up. Wonwoo manages to crack his own smile. The taller mouths something agains his hand and he removes it.

 

“I couldn’t breathe.”

 

“I didn’t even cover your nose.”

 

The outline of Mingyu’s shoulders move upward in the dark and Wonwoo mutters, ‘ _mouthbreather_ ,’ earning another soft bout of laughter and he hits the heel of his palm against the taller’s side, ‘ _you’re going to get us caught_.’ Mingyu stays quiet, but his giggles are felt through his chest. The older does his best to maintain his attention to the sounds away from them, ignoring the gentle thrum of Mingyu’s heart against his own, his breath in his hair, or how his hand comes to rest gently at the junction of his shoulder. He ignores it, head canted to the side, listening instead to Seungcheol slowly collecting the the others and spreading them out through the rooms as a search party. Soonyoung is quick to weed out Jihoon and Junhui from what he hears, Jun laughing and Jihoon cursing a storm with Soonyoung saying that he’s possibly going to be scarred. Jeonghan comes next with little complaint from Seungcheol that he didn’t even try.

 

Wonwoo releases the the breath captured in his lungs, settling back into the tight space as best as he can and looking up with adjusted eyes. Mingyu stares back, curious and unreadable as always, expression detectable even in the dark. He’s whispering something to him and Wonwoo has barely the mind to process the words between them as he dissects the other’s expression.

 

“What?”

 

“You’re not wearing your glasses.”

 

“Figured I should get some use out of my contacts.”

 

“Hm.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Just noticed, that’s all.”

 

His reply is poised at his tongue, but the footfalls of another entering the room purses his lips, gaze flickering from the closet opening to Mingyu, the taller stock still and holding his breath, the smile on his lips straining.

 

“I hear you.”

 

They remain quiet and Mingyu presses tighter into the darker corner closet, effectively pinning Wonwoo tightly between the wall and the younger with little room to breathe and he brings his palm against the taller’s abdomen to push him back incrementally. He swallows hard and ignores the heat rising from his chest and into his cheeks, filling his ears like the red from a mercury thermometer. The voice breaks the silence again as a head peers into the closet.

 

“I love how incriminating this is.”

 

“Shut up, Jeonghan,” Wonwoo snaps from where he’s pinned between the wall of the closet and the wall of Mingyu’s chest, sharp gaze cast over the taller’s shoulder just to where Jeonghan is visible in the opening.

 

“It can’t be as bad as Jun and Jihoon, they were… _intimately entangled_ according to Soonyoung when he found them.”

 

Mingyu laughs and teases as he slowly backs away from Wonwoo, “Could’ve been us, huh?”

 

The older just flushes darker and uses the hand still resting on Mingyu’s middle to push him away, Jeonghan ducking out of the closet’s doorway to miss the stumbling giant.

 

“You really wish.”

 

_Afternoon of September 3_

Coronado Beach

San Diego

 

Warmth seeps through the thin striped material of the umbrella and paints soft streaks of blue across Wonwoo’s half sleeping features, bathing in filtered sun while heat radiates through the sand and into the gingham blanket stretched out beneath him. He feels the material shift as someone joins him, the crown of their head brushes just under his elbow from where his arms are folded with hands tucked under his nape. He allows himself to break an eye open to peek at his company and finds Seokmin splayed carefully next to him. The younger’s eyes are closed, long lashes fanned across the high flush of his cheeks, new sprays of freckles decorating the sharp curves. He opens his eyes and spots the older watching him and cracks a tired smile.

 

“Already exhausted?”

 

“Soonyoung and Mingyu are like two powerhouses even I manage to get exhausted from sometimes.”

 

“That’s such a feat in itself. Seokmin Lee, run out of energy.”

 

The red head laughs and closes his eyes again, amused crescents that remain as Seokmin drifts into a still slumber and Wonwoo mirrors the motion and falls back into his half sleep. 

 

A small eternity spans their nap, the older drifting in the fine haze of sleep and waking as the afternoon wanes, registering the subtle shifts in the blanket and the quiet snores from the other. He doesn’t begin to rouse as the rest join them, but lifts his head with tired eyes at the pressure of someone’s head settling gently on his midsection. His gaze meets that of Mingyu, turned toward him with hair in soft tangles from sea salt and heat, his eyes are shut and Wonwoo admires the golden glow of the younger in the lowering sun, light complimenting the dark bronze of his hair and casting gilded reflects through the strands. Something in his heart clinches with longing but he keeps it focused to just the stutter in his chest, features unaffected and distant. It allows room for excuse when Mingyu opens his eyes and the older is openly staring, but his expression is blank.

 

“Admiring me?”

 

“Think the opposite.”

 

“Ouch.”

 

“Your head is heavy.”

 

“You don’t mind.”

 

Wonwoo rolls his eyes and leans back down onto the blanket, closing his eyes as he soaks in the last of the heat from the afternoon.


	5. Love is the Devil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr.](http://veonon.tumblr.com/)  
> [pinterest.](https://www.pinterest.ph/heylovre/)  
> [twitter.](http://twitter.com/heylovre)  
> next few updates will be slow coming once again, thank you for being patient with me <3

_Evening of October 25_

Bubble Pop Tea

LA

 

The large straw fits with slight discomfort on Wonwoo’s tongue as he draws milk tea and pearls into his mouth, chewing the sugared bulbs that settle between his teeth while he places his drink down and continues correcting his notes. Seokmin sits across from him, drawing idly on a free page of the older’s notebook, lips pursed into a pout of concentration. Wonwoo glances upward to eye at the doodles the younger has strewn across the lined paper, little curling clouds and stars with several moons, charming notes of encouragement scrawled in Korean that the older can’t decipher from upside down, characters suspended amongst the small galaxy. He smiles nonetheless and tucks away a reminder to save the small constellations left for him by the other.

 

He turns his eyes from the paper and glances out the window past the younger, squinting at the sun glaring through in vibrant oranges, igniting blood red as the rays seep through Seokmin’s curls where Wonwoo finds his gaze lands against the violent light. They’ve been sat in the cafe for two hours, several drinks consumed, attempting to study, but the younger of the two gave up trying to memorize his script after the other made a promise to help him rehearse later on.Seokmin occupied his time instead by filling Wonwoo’s notebooks with little drawings, occasionally questioning the older upon request to make sure the information was properly absorbed. Now they sit in a shared silent contemplation over whether they should leave or not, Wonwoo dissecting the colors in the younger’s hair and Seokmin toying idly with the worn sleeves of his rugby sweater, a glassy distraction in his eyes until he looks up to the older with a plea in his gaze for them to leave.

 

Wonwoo obliges.

 

~

 

The pair stand observing a wall of masks, wigs, and accessories, their excursion post abandonment of academics bringing them into a Halloween pop up shop. Wonwoo’s eyes catch a pair of glittering red horns on a headband and he reaches for them, sliding the black piece across his crown and turning to Seokmin, brow peaked. The younger already looks at him with a pursed smile and a knowing glimmer in his eye from the myriad of puns that have infiltrated their evening in the store.

 

“Aren’t I devilishly handsome?” 

 

“That’s the worst one of them all, I’m disappointed.”

 

Despite the words, the younger is smiling and reaching to adjust the horns properly in the onyx locks, dyed gray under the odd fluorescent lighting of the warehouse, standing back with satisfaction, “Now you are.”

 

“I know.”

 

Seokmin rolls his eyes, but the smile maintains as he turns back to the wall. The older turns back as well, head tilted slightly, imitating deep consideration for the wide selection before he glances sideward to the other.

 

“Are you and Soonyoung doing a couples costume?”

 

There’s a beat of silence and Wonwoo sees the younger’s shoulder shift incrementally under the stripes of his shirt, “No.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“We’ve been considering separating…? So the costume wouldn’t really work, I guess.”

 

Dark hair trembles with the sudden turn of the older’s neck, sharp eyes prying and invasive on the other’s careful expression and the inclination to the end of his rhetorical question, his gaze fixed forward and neglecting to meet the unspoken interrogation. His smile drops away from his eyes slightly.

 

“Why?” 

 

“We think we rushed into it,” a shrug, “That maybe it was better just staying friends,” his tone attempts for something of nonchalance, but the words spill in an uncomfortable rush that doesn’t go unnoticed.

 

“You _both_ think that?”

 

Seokmin’s lip blanches where he catches it under his teeth, a deep inhale following as he nods despite the death of his voice in his throat in the middle of his reply, “Swear it.” His eyes crinkle around the corners at the smile he forces onto his lips, releasing his lower lip, glistening pink and swollen from the sharp pressure of his incisors on the sensitive skin.

 

Wonwoo watches the delicate tension that forms in the other’s shoulders and the tight line of his jaw. His expression is barely contained well of emotions hidden beneath a cracking facade, and his words weak against his falling smile, attempting to fight the brimming tears that threaten along the corners of his eyes. Stress etches into the furrow of his brow as a strained silent note sticks in his throat, the older immediately reaching for him when he hears the telling hitch and a shaky sob from the younger meets the junction of his shoulder, cold hands seeking wrists and collecting Seokmin’s crumpling form against his slight frame. The taller moves his hand to soothe against the nape of his neck, fingers following a trail from his hairline to the dip of his collar in the back of his shirt, palm pressed against the small area of exposure and holding him closer, whispering soft nothings of reassurance as the other soaks his garments with tears.

 

~

 

The incident in the costume shop brings them home. Their clothes shed in tracks to respective rooms, showers taken, worn hoodies pulled over damp hair and silent exchanges over microwaved leftovers at the kitchen counter, leading the pair to the couch; both tucked under blankets with the younger melded to Wonwoo’s side. Seokmin’s legs are tucked up, head leant down onto the older’s shoulder with sleeve covered hands resting on his knee, finger tips peeking from just under the cuff and fiddling with the frays of flannel that stray from the material after years of wear while his eyes remain focused on the old musical Wonwoo knew the younger enjoyed. The older has his arm over the other, bent to rest his hand on the slowly drying hair, idly playing with the waves of red. Seokmin’s occasional hiccuping breaths interrupt the quiet around them, his inward draw of air rattling with leftover tears.

 

“Wonu?”

 

“Mm?”

 

“Why does love hurt like this?”

 

The older tilts his head, cheek bumping the crown the other as thoughts form and die on his tongue in the span of several heartbeats, “I think… If love didn’t hurt as much as it did, we’d be a lot more careless with who we offered it to.”

 

_Afternoon of October 29_

Junhui’s House

Claremont

 

Wonwoo displays his newly stained hands to Joshua, the older’s phone trained on the black mess decorating his finger tips even after an aggressive medically styled scrubbing in the kitchen sink. The two sit across from each other at the small dining table while Junhui cooks behind them, Josh admiring his new hair, inky and choppy from a fresh haircut on his front camera. Wonwoo had been tasked with the offer to dye it once he’d crossed the threshold of the bungalow, the two older boys grinning at him deviously from the couch and he a deer in the headlights of their gaze, and now his hands sport a fresh coat of obsidian.

 

“I think this could work in favor of the costume, if we painted my nails black.”

 

“Goth devil Wonu sounds hot.”

 

“Oh that reminds me, I’m not dressing up with you guys this year.”

 

Two heads snap back in unison to their cook, the brassy haired boy unconcerned to the commotion he knew he was breaking into with the statement.

 

Joshua interrogates first, voice adopting accusation, “What do you _mean_ you’re not dressing up with us?”

 

“I _mean_ I’m going with Jihoon to the party at the record store and we wanted to match instead.”

 

Wonwoo’s laughter is stitched with disbelief, “ _Jihoon_ wants to do a couples costume?”

 

“Technically no, but I convinced him to.”

 

“So you bribed him.”

 

“With a brand new soundboard.”

 

“And they say love can’t be bought.”

 

~

 

The ring of the call bounces against Wonwoo’s ear, his thumb moving to press speaker as he places the phone on the coffee table in front of them, Joshua lamenting over their trio costume having been deducted to a duo, prompting the younger to shush him and call his roommate.

 

Seokmin’s voice is thick with variations of sleep, tears, and sadness when he answers, a yawn breaking halfway through the greeting and Joshua coos softly. Wonwoo offers a gentle, ‘ _hello_ ,’ leaning toward the speaker, his voice a soft, melodic little song that dances off his tongue and the subtle gestures make the oldest raise his brow, a growing smile toying with his lip. The upturn of the reply bleeds away the ebbing of melancholy that twined through the small, crackling voice of the youngest and he asks, ‘ _what do you need, Nonu?_ ’ and the gasp the mentioned hears in his ear sends a withering glare to the older.

 

“Do you want to be an angel for halloween?”

 

“Aren’t you going as a devil?”

 

“And Shua’s going as a priest.”

 

“That’s sacrilegious.”

 

“Bordering… So?”

 

“Do you have the costume already?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Okay, that sounds good.”

 

“Go back to sleep.”

 

“I will, bye.”

 

“Mmh.”

 

Wonwoo cuts the call and the stare that meets him is shocked, but with no shortness of elation, ‘ _you let him call you Nonu?_ ’ ‘ _he heard my mom say it and asked when we were on the way back to the apartment if he could call me that_ ,’ ‘ _you brought him HOME?_ ’ ‘ _… it was an occasion arisen from the most dire of circumstance._ ’ The statement keeps Joshua’s words in his mouth, but all is said in his eyes as the light dances playfully in them, and Wonwoo simply looks away to ignore the implications behind his gaze.

 

_Night of October 30_

Apartment

LA

 

Hansol’s friend makes a tedious job of painting Wonwoo’s nails, her mouth set in a in a concentrated tilt as she draws the brush against the smooth surface, making a small comment about how healthy his nails are, the admiration in her inflection eliciting a pleased noise from the older’s throat. Seokmin sits in the aged armchair beside them, bubbling over his own buffed nails while Hansol sprawls across the couch at their back, Wonwoo sitting calmly on the carpet with the girl coating his nails in an intimidatingly dark varnish. He had asked for Hansol to bring her after finding them performing a similar little task on the floor of the record shop when he’d walked in that morning, unable to help the quiet chuckles rising up as the younger boy dried his newly coated nail beds through vigorously waving his hands, the girl snorting with laughter telling him, ’ _that’s not going to work._ ’ Hansol continued anyways.

 

When she releases his grip and tracks away to the younger’s room, padding back and forth to collect her belongings before abandoning the group with a, ‘see ya tomorrow,’ cast quickly over her shoulder with a small wave. Wonwoo takes the time to look over the darkened tint to the skin, the boundaries of his cuticles lost in the black stain still covering his fingertips.

 

“That’s unsettling.”

 

The older turns back to look at Hansol, who’s brow furrows looking at the obsidian blend on his hands, “I know, it looks gangrenous.”

 

“Use English.”

 

“It’s like tissue death and then rotting.”

 

Seokmin is about to comment when Mingyu tumbles through the entryway with pizza boxes in hand and Minghao just after, arms weighted by grocery bags brimming with an assortment of other goods as he kicks the door shut. Hansol rolls off the sofa in an awkward arrangement of limbs to help him while Seokmin ambles up from his chair to start getting plates and Wonwoo moves to place himself amongst the bustle. He seats himself at the counter and props his chin against his blackened hand, laughing when Mingyu’s immediate response is of visceral disgust as he steps back.

 

“Jesus _CHRIST_ , Wonwoo. That looks fucking disgusting.”

 

“It’s for Halloween.”

 

“I got mine done too,” Seokmin chides from Wonwoo’s side where he sets down some plates and shows his glossy nails, slender fingers splayed on the counter, nails pink and healthy by comparison.

 

“You should get a manicure too, Gyu.”

 

“If that’s what your hands look like after a manicure, I’ll keep to just filing my nails, thanks.”

 

~

 

Dinner is laid out in front of the group on the living room floor, coffee table pushed back to make room for pizza boxes flipped open, wings scattered in the empty halves and the overwhelming smell of oil and cheese filling the air. Wonwoo finds himself perched on the floor, Mingyu on the couch behind him and his lithe frame caught between his legs as he’s fed a circle of pepperoni from the younger, who conceded to the assist with his dinner after Wonwoo held up his fingers with a little wiggle. He hums in thanks as the topping meets his tongue, chewing it slowly and leaning his head against the other’s knee while listening to the television crackling out a ‘ _Who’s the Boss?_ ’ rerun.

 

“Mingyu.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“You kinda remind me of Tony.”

 

“Is that good?”

 

“I guess.”

 

“Hm.”

 

Wonwoo feels the younger’s knee nudge him and he looks up, nose meeting the bottom corner of a pizza slice held out to him, oil smearing across his bridge. He looks at Mingyu with a restrained sneer, the other already grinning as he puts the pizza back to his plate and reaches for a napkin, wiping it down the ridge of Wonwoo’s nose, making the older close his eyes as the papery material brushes near his lashes. Mingyu traces the trail several time until Wonwoo feels the younger’s fingers disappear from his nose and allows his gaze to flutter back into focus, looking at him with lips pursed in distaste, but the feeling that accompanies dissipates with the smile that’s pulling other’s lips. He keeps quiet, turning to the show again until he feels the same nudge from the younger’s leg and is careful to turn this time, leaning away and ignoring the laughter that blows out with the other’s breath, simply opening his mouth and allowing himself to be fed.


End file.
